


Five Versions of Valentine's Day, 2007

by sophiahelix



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Ensemble - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Threesome, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-25
Updated: 2006-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 13:47:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiahelix/pseuds/sophiahelix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Michael makes a toast at the party, raising his plastic cup of cream soda. 'To lovers,' he says. 'In all forms and all colors. No judging here. No sir, not on this day of all days, when we celebrate the power…of love.'"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Versions of Valentine's Day, 2007

It's Valentine's Day, and she's forgotten to wear red. She'll have time to change when she gets home, though, so she doesn't worry about it. It's not like her clothes will stay on for much of the evening anyhow.

There are flowers on her desk this year, a vase of fat pink rosebuds that she keeps sniffing, forgetting they won't have any scent until they open. It was a nice thought, flowers that would last a week instead of dying after just a few days in the windowless office. He always remembers the little things.

She glances up at the clock, which reads seven minutes to five. People are already starting to sneak out. Ryan is packing up at his desk, unsticking the HAPPY ANNIVERSARY banner that Kelly made him. Phyllis is away on her honeymoon.

At five she gets up to do her last faxes, and Karen and Jim come by to get their coats, holding hands. Karen smiles at Pam and lets go, stopping to lean on her desk.

"Is Will taking you somewhere fancy tonight?" Karen asks, raising an eyebrow.

Pam smiles back, shuffling papers on her desk. "Well, we have to put in an appearance at the gallery party, but after that, I don't know. He likes surprises."

"Nice." Karen grins at her, winding her scarf around her neck.

She watches them go out the door, the old pain in her heart just a little fluttering speck, hardly noticeable anymore. They walk with their shoulders squared and serious, talking about basketball and customers. They're starting to look alike, with their dark suits and wide, hard grins. Scranton's numbers have never been better.

After closing down her computer she shrugs into her own coat, mentally running through her wardrobe. She's bought a few vintage-style things to match Will's own clothes, and her new red dancing pumps would look nice with her tweed skirt and cream blouse. Maybe she'll pack her overnight bag, just in case.

She straightens up the card he painted for her, leaning it against the vase of flowers, running her fingertips over the tiny explosions of red and pink oils. She should really get a frame for it, she thinks with a smile.

Will picks her up at seven, and she climbs into his little green Karmann Ghia, a bit unsteady on her heels. He eyes her up and down, then whistles. She blushes, feeling warm all over.

"Hey," she says.

*****

It's Valentine's Day, and she's forgotten to wear red. She's envious of Karen's red wool suit, which hugs her curves and makes her cheeks glow. She likes all of Karen's suits, actually, although she doesn't envy her dry cleaning bill.

Karen's always really nice to her, which is a mixed blessing. There was that one day in December when it was obvious someone had told Karen something, because she was kind of cold and brusque for the rest of the afternoon, but the next day the suspicious look was gone and she started going out of her way to be friendly. Pam _thinks_ that’s better than the evil eye, but she can't shake the suspicion that pity is involved.

It's pretty quiet in the office, until Kelly comes stomping out from the back, heels clicking on the tile floor as she wrenches the kitchen door open.

"Ryan!" she says. "What do you mean you can't go out tonight?"

Everyone but Stanley looks at Ryan. He looks down.

"Uh," he says to his keyboard. "My grandmother is visiting."

Kelly drags Phyllis's empty chair away from her desk, and sits down next to Ryan, bumping into Dwight's shoulder. Dwight glares at the back of her head.

"Ryan, I would love to meet your grandmother! Is she really sweet? Is she old?"

"Yeah," Ryan says. "Um, she's kind of – sick, so she doesn't like to have too many people around. I think we're just gonna – "

"Oh my god, Ryan, please, please, please can I meet your grandmother? Please? I love old people _so much_."

Pam sees Karen shoot Jim a sideways grin. She can't see what his response is, but Karen rolls her eyes and jerks her head towards the door. They both stand up, gathering their things, as Ryan mumbles more excuses.

She looks down quickly as they approach the coat rack. She keeps wishing it would get better, but it never really does. Jim helps Karen into her coat, and goes down the hall without looking back. He almost never says goodnight. Karen lingers for a moment, fishing a grape Jolly Rancher out of the dish on Pam's desk.

"Hey," Karen says, and Pam looks up. Karen's got the same friendly smile as always, a little forced, a little thin. "Doing anything fun tonight?"

Pam shakes her head. "I've got class."

"Oh. Well, have a good one, OK?" Karen nods at her, and turns to walk away.

"You too," Pam says, quietly. She isn't sure Karen hears.

She stays for another hour, doing work she could easily put off until tomorrow. Her watercolor class has actually been canceled, and there's nothing for dinner and she hates going to the grocery store when it's crowded with after-work shoppers. She thinks sometimes it would make the most sense if she just stayed here, sleeping on the reception couch and eating cereal in the break room. It would save on gas, at least.

The door opens and when she looks up, Roy is coming down the hall towards her. He's carrying his work shirt over one arm, and wearing a dark green button-down that she doesn't recognize. His beard, which she secretly likes, is trimmed close, and he looks really good at that moment, enough to make her breath catch.

"Hey," he says, stopping in front of her desk. He doesn't lean on it.

"Hey," she says. "You look – nice. Do you – um – are you…?"

"What?" he asks.

"Are you seeing someone tonight?"

"Uh, that depends," he says, his voice soft and serious. He looks down at her, and after a few seconds she gets it.

She shouldn't, she really shouldn’t, she knows that from the way her palms are sweating and the way his eyes are so dark and vulnerable, but she can't help letting out a breath and saying "OK."

Later that night, he holds her as she cries and cries, and he doesn't ask why.

*****

It's Valentine's Day, and she's forgotten to wear red. It's the least of her concerns today, though, since something bad is going on again with corporate and she's spent all afternoon transferring calls between Michael and Jan and warding off questions from her co-workers.

She's pretty cranky by the end of the day, especially when Martin drops off a big copying project on his way out the door to have dinner with his girlfriend. He and Karen are the only two left of the Stamford employees, and everyone knows he's just sticking around because of this girl he met in his apartment complex. Admittedly, she's gorgeous – Martin won't even let her come upstairs anymore, because of Michael – but it's kind of annoying to know that he'd be gone in a second if she dumped him.

Pam would have said the same of Karen two months ago, but now she isn't so sure. Karen's never been happy here, that's clear, but it's been equally obvious why she came in the first place. And now she and Jim have been weird all month, leaving at different times and eating lunch separately. The office is too small for people not to notice, and after Karen didn't show at Phyllis's wedding last weekend, everyone has been speculating about it.

She wishes she didn't have to deduce things from the office rumor mill, but it's not like she can ask Jim directly or anything. They've only just started being normal again, after weeks of strained avoidance, and she's not going to mess that up by asking if he's single. She's not.

Karen leaves right at five, without looking at anyone. Jim doesn't look at her either, just keeps talking into his phone. He and Dwight stay pretty late these days, trying to increase their sales volumes, for all the good that's doing. Pam can hear an edge of desperation in their voices, and she wonders how much Jim knows about the stuff going on with corporate. More than she does, probably.

At six she finally finishes up Martin's stupid project and goes into the bathroom to wash her hands, inky from changing the toner cartridge. She scrubs hard, trying to rub away the blackness, and a sudden sob echoes over the sound of running water.

She shuts off the tap. "Kelly?"

A sniffle. "Yeah?"

"Everything all right?"

"No," Kelly says, her voice quavering, and Pam sighs and goes down to the last stall.

Kelly's makeup is a mess, running down her face, and she's sitting pigeon-toed on the toilet, her knees pressed together. Her filmy pink lace shirt looks flat and deflated, drooping onto her pink suede skirt, and even her hot-pink toenail polish seems sad.

"Oh," Pam says. "Um. Don't worry. I don't think they're going to close this branch. Today."

"They're closing this branch?" Kelly asks, on a rising sob.

"No, no," Pam says. "I just think they might let some people go. Maybe."

"Oh," Kelly says. "Well, I'm the only person left in customer service, so I guess I'm safe." She reaches for the toilet paper and pulls off a long piece, then blows her nose with a honk.

"Yeah," Pam says. "That's a good way to look at it."

"Safe and _alone_ ," Kelly says, breaking into fresh tears. Pam sort of grimaces, understanding.

"Did…" she begins, knowing Kelly will finish for her.

"He said he wouldn't go out tonight, Pam. On our _anniversary_."

"Isn't – "

"And he said he didn't care that I'd made reservations at L'Oiseau Rose, even though I made them like three _months_ ago, and that he didn't even want us to have an anniversary and that he thought… thought…" Kelly breaks down into sobs again, and Pam pulls off another piece of toilet paper and hands it to her.

"I think he wants to see other people," Kelly said, sniffling. "And that doesn't make any sense. How can we be boyfriend and girlfriend if he's dating other girls?"

Pam doesn't say what she's thinking, which is that she's pretty sure Ryan has been seeing other girls for a while now, judging by some of the calls she's transferred to him recently. It's a jerky thing to do while he's actually at work, she thinks, but really, he probably wanted Kelly to find out.

"Maybe he just wanted to see his friends tonight," Pam says. "Maybe – "

"What, his friends are more important than me? On _Valentine's_ Day?"

Kelly lifts her wet face up to Pam's, pleading, and suddenly Pam doesn't want to make excuses anymore.

"You know what, Kelly?" she says, her voice bitter and hard. "He's probably out hitting on other girls. He probably does that all the time. He doesn't take you seriously, he doesn't appreciate you, and frankly, I think you'd be better off without him."

She stops, shocked. In all the time she's known Kelly, she's never once said what she was really thinking. She has no idea what will happen next.

Kelly doesn't get mad. She just hiccups, thinking, and finally she stands up.

"So I have to make him take me seriously. OK. I can do that." She totters towards the stall door, still clutching her balled-up toilet paper, and Pam moves aside, too stricken to say anything.

At the sink, after washing her face, Kelly looks back. "Pam? What says 'serious' to you – my purple denim skirt, or my green pantsuit?"

"The pantsuit," Pam says, finding her voice again.

"Thanks," says Kelly, and goes out.

When Pam follows her a few minutes later, the only person left in the office is Jim. He's still on the phone, but silent, like he's on hold, and his hair is falling into his eyes. He always lets it grow too long in winter.

She crosses the room, going to pack up her things for the day. Jim is still on hold, and she pauses for a second, standing behind her desk.

"Hey," she says.

He swivels around in his chair, the phone still pressed to his ear, and looks up at her.

"Um. Do you know about what's going on with Jan?"

He nods, slowly.

"Are you not allowed to tell me?"

He shakes his head.

"If we play charades and I guess right, will you tell me?"

He smiles, putting his finger to the tip of his nose.

The truthful mood is still on her, and suddenly she doesn't want to make excuses here either, even if it means putting their newly regained friendship on the line. She's pretty sure the branch is going to close within the year anyhow.

"Did you break up with Karen?"

His smile fades, turning into a frown.

"I don't want the details, I just want to know."

After another moment, he nods.

"OK," she says. She takes a breath. "OK. I just…needed to know. If I had a shot."

His eyes widen. He still doesn't say anything.

"But it's cool," she goes on, talking fast. "If – if you don't feel that way about me anymore. If you need time. If you're not sure. Is one of those things true?"

He nods, looking down.

"Maybe all of them," she says softly, almost to herself. "OK. Good night, Jim."

She picks up her things and puts on her coat, slinging her purse over her shoulder. When she turns back he's still looking at her, but something in his face is different.

"Pam," he says, covering the mouthpiece of his phone. "I – oh. Oh. Hello, Mr. Nash."

She smiles at him, touching her finger to the tip of her nose, and goes home.

*****

It's Valentine's Day, and she's forgotten to wear red. It makes her nervous, like it's some kind of bad omen. Everything has been weird lately, off by a few degrees, and she wanted to get at least this one day right.

She'd thought it would be like finishing a jigsaw puzzle, the pieces falling into place. Things have been falling, true enough, but it's more like a kaleidoscope, the world tumbling around in new, confusing patterns as she tries to keep up. Phyllis, eloping on New Year's Eve and then quitting because Bob makes enough money that she doesn't have to work anymore. Dwight and Angela, breaking up in front of everyone. _Roy_ and Angela, and that shouldn't have upset her but it did somehow, like he was doing it just to get back at her. Karen and Jim, shouting at each other in the parking lot about things she only half-understood, and Karen driving off while Jim stood there looking thunderstruck and lost.

And then the wheel swung around to her, almost before she was ready, and Jim was saying yes to coffee and yes to dinner and yes to pretty much anything she asked, and for getting something so easily that she'd wanted for so long, it didn’t exactly feel the way she'd thought it would.

They haven’t slept together yet. It's been three weeks of lingering kisses and hands wandering under clothes and her thinking about him every spare second, but somehow they both keep stopping short. She thinks it'll probably be tonight. She hopes so, anyhow.

At five minutes to five she gets up to take her coffee mug into the kitchen. Kelly's already in there, rinsing out her tupperware from lunch, and they smile briefly at each other.

"Hey," Pam says. "Big plans tonight?"

"I guess," Kelly says, shrugging.

Since Ryan left, Kelly's been quieter, even after she started dating that guy Martin. He tolerates her better than Ryan ever did, always reaching out to grab her ass or sneak a kiss in a way that makes most of the office uncomfortable, but Kelly doesn't seem to sparkle quite like she used to. Pam never expected to miss Kelly's chatter, but she does.

"Are you going out to dinner?" she asks.

Kelly just nods, and they finish their washing up in silence. Jim looks up as she walks back into the main office, pointing to his watch. They've got six o'clock reservations.

He picks her up at 5:45, after she's changed into a red blouse, and half an hour later they're seated in a table too close to the kitchen for serious conversation. It's OK, she thinks. They don't really need to talk much these days anyhow.

"So," he says, when they get into his car afterwards.

She looks down at the box of leftovers in her lap, then back up at him, trying to say it with her eyes. He gets it.

They go to his place, the new apartment with walls that still smell of fresh paint and carpet that's still a little scratchy from not being walked on enough. She slips off her shoes and he takes off her coat. Her hands are cold so she reaches for his, and he warms them up for a moment, rubbing her fingers slowly.

It's cold in the bedroom, so they hurry under the blankets. She likes feeling the warmth of their bodies together as they undress piece by piece, going farther than ever before. His mouth is hot on her neck, the tip of her breast, her hip, until he's pulling her legs apart and she's arching her back, clutching at the sheets to stave off the pleasure of his tongue fluttering against her. She comes fast and noisily, and when he moves back up his flushed face looks a little awkward, like maybe her cries embarrassed him, which makes her feel silly. She kisses his neck, burying her face against his sweaty skin, and he reaches over her into his nightstand drawer.

Roy didn't use condoms, because she's been on the pill for a decade and she doesn’t like the feeling of latex. She wants to say something, but it feels too weird, and anyhow this is what people who are dating are supposed to do. He pulls one wrapper out of the half-empty box, and that feels weird too, knowing that he's used them recently. Guilt bubbles up, like coffee percolating, and she swallows hard.

He leans back to put the condom on and the bad feelings just keep stabbing away at her, making her stomach turn. She can't help but think of the people they've hurt to be with each other; Roy and the three-day fight they had last June, Karen and her sad, hard face on the morning she quit. Neither of them deserved that.

She pulls him down to kiss her again, trying to lose herself in him. He's obscenely good with his mouth and she could keep kissing him forever, forgetting. Then his mouth is at her ear, as he moves between her legs, and there's the dry, rough feeling of the condom when he pushes inside, doing it by degrees. It makes her tense up, which makes it worse, and she clutches at his shoulders, biting her lip. The whole thing feels like a first time, slow and uneasy. She doesn't open her eyes.

He lets out his breath in a rush when he's all the way inside her, resting his forehead on the pillow. Then he starts moving again, and the condom rubs her wrong and she's not really in the mood to come again, too tired and drained, so she urges him on with her hands and voice, whispering his name. Soon he's shuddering inside her, making hardly any noise at all.

She holds onto him, this moment, when she can feel his heart beating against hers, his warm body close and dear. Tears prick under her eyelids, as she thinks of what it took to get here. She doesn't want him to notice, so she reaches up and rubs at her eyes, mindful of her mascara.

When he rolls away from her he sighs, and stretches out on his side. He smiles at her, his eyes half-closed, and runs a finger across her cheek, down her jaw. She smiles back.

"Do you have any tissue?" she whispers after a moment.

"Oh – yeah," he says. "Hang on."

He gets up on one elbow and rummages around in the open drawer, and she can see a few panty liners in purple wrappers scattered around. It makes her chest go tight again, as she thinks about what it means – that they were close enough for Karen to keep things here, that Karen was brave enough to leave something so intimate around – and she can't quite meet his eyes when he turns back to her.

She cleans up, and then they go to sleep, except she lies there for a long time, wondering.

*****

It's Valentine's Day, and she's decided not to wear red. Whatever's going to happen today doesn’t have anything to do with paper hearts and florist's roses, although she does bring in a bag of red-hots for her candy bowl. Karen really likes them.

There are flowers on her desk, in fact, and everyone else's too – Andy talked Michael into buying flowers for all the women on the office dime. Michael cheaped out and bought red carnations instead of roses, but she still enjoys breathing in the sticky-sweet smell of them. She can see Karen doing the same thing, and smiles at her across the room.

At lunch she helps Angela set out the bags of pretzels and cans of soda left over from Phyllis's going-away party last week. Something has been sparkling on Angela's left hand for a week now, but no one says anything about it. Angela's just the tiniest bit easier to put up with, though, and sometimes Pam catches her gazing across the room with a very un-Angela look on her face. It's surprisingly sweet.

Michael makes a toast at the party, raising his plastic cup of cream soda. "To lovers," he says. "In all forms and all colors. No judging here. No sir, not on this day of all days, when we celebrate the power…of _love_."

Pam snorts and looks away, to where Oscar is staring at the ceiling and Kelly is giggling into Ryan's ear, her arms wrapped around his neck. He doesn't look thrilled, but he's got an arm around her waist and he doesn’t pull away.

At the end of the day, Jim flips a box of conversation hearts on her desk as he walks by, going out the door. He's left the message box blank, but when she opens it she sees he's picked out all the white ones, which taste like chalk, which she hates, which he knows. She smiles to herself, popping a pink one in her mouth.

Michael's sitting at his desk when she pokes her head in to say goodbye, his left hand resting next to the phone. He doesn't look up from staring at his blotter.

"Just call her," she says, nicely.

"Which one?"

She shrugs. "Either."

Karen's got the car warmed up when she gets downstairs, the stereo blasting Sleater-Kinney. Pam tosses her stuff in the back and buckles her seatbelt, reaching forward to skip the CD to her favorite track.

"Ready to win some money?" Karen asks, picking conversation hearts out of the box in her lap.

"Always," Pam says. "Let's take him for all he's got."

Karen grins, and floors it out of the parking lot.

They clean out all four guys, via their planned strategy of playing dumb and looking really cute. She knows Jim isn't falling for it but he keeps folding every time, watching her or Karen rake in the chips with a bemused grin. His three friends grumble, but she can tell they're mesmerized by Karen's trashtalk and pretty eyes, and maybe even by her own half-unbuttoned shirt, when she leans over to deal.

Jim kicks his friends out around ten, delegating the most-sober to drive. While he's gone Karen tugs at Pam's skirt, pulling her onto the couch next to her. Pam goes down with a laugh, and then Karen is sliding her hand over Pam's legs, until Pam lifts them onto her lap. Pam puts her arm over Karen's shoulders, then Karen does the same, and they look at each other, still smiling.

"I'm really glad you didn't move back to Connecticut," Pam says, letting her head fall to one side. She's buzzed, but not so drunk that she doesn't know what's happening.

"Me too," Karen says.

The front door shuts. "So," Jim says.

"So," Karen says. She doesn't look away from Pam.

"Are you guys…" Jim asks, his voice a little strained.

"Yeah," Pam says, and leans in to kiss Karen for the first time.

They let it go on for a long while. It feels important, she thinks, opening her mouth under Karen's. Karen is sweet, tasting like Jack and coke, and her tongue is hot and nimble, her hands in Pam's hair. It's like they need to make this step first, bridging the last connection. Plus it's really fun to make him wait.

Jim's gotten less patient in the last year, though, and eventually she feels him sit down on the couch behind her, warm and solid. She leans back into him and his arms come around her, his hands reaching for Karen's shoulders. When she and Karen finally break their kiss, it's because they're smiling too much.

"This?" Jim asks, his breath warm in her hair.

"Yeah," Karen says.

"Oh yes," Pam says.


End file.
